Dave McClure

How pleasant to know Dave McClure
   Whose writing is quirky and quaint !
Some say that all Scotsmen are dour
   But this one most certainly ain't.

His head is the size of a planet,
   His brain is as small as a pea;
He once had a budgie called Janet,
   And fed it on crumpets and tea.

His nose is inclined to the starboard,
   His eyes are of opaline hue;
He loves to sit down by the harbour, d-
   -elights in the maritime view.

He sits by a lonely computer
   Surrounded by thousands of books;
Remembers his days as a suitor,
   When time hadn't ravaged his looks.

He cycles in every weather,
   He rests at an inn on his way;
In Scotland he'd lie on the heather,
   In England he lies on the hay.

When he climbs from his bicycle saddle
   He walks with his toes in the air;
Some say, "Does the pedalling addle
   His brain?" with a curious stare.

He knows that his fingers are bony,
   He knows that his nails are too long;
He used to enjoy macaroni
   But now is content with a song.

He used to be vague and uneasy
   But now he is certain and sure
That the notion will not leave you queasy -
   How pleasant to know Dave McClure !